Perfecting absolutely everything inconsequential
by AngelisIgniRelucent
Summary: "We have to stick together …" "Well, yeah," Quinn says, tapping her cigarette disdainfully at you and taking another long drag. "That's why we're here," and she gestures to the bleachers over your heads, letting out a wry chuckle as the wind rattles the chain-link fencing, as if punctuating her statement. SKANK!KURT, KLAINE, IMAGE CREDIT TO ladyxmarauder


**Again, I'm just jumping on a bandwagon here - the marvellous AU of Skank!Kurt. Title taken from the Dresden Dolls' "Lonesome Organist Rapes Page-turner"  
****This is dedicated to my marvellous friend Calvin for his 19th birthday (which is actually in a few weeks, but whatever - i'm keen!)**

Devoted to the fine art of perfecting absolutely everything inconsequential

"Us fuck-ups have to stick together …"

"Well, _yeah_," Quinn says, tapping her cigarette disdainfully at you and taking another long drag. "That's why we're here," and she gestures to the bleachers over your heads, letting out a wry chuckle as the wind rattles the chain-link fencing, as if punctuating her statement.  
"But there are so many fuck-ups in the school – why me?" you enquire, wordlessly asking for pass over her cigarette and rolling your eyes and grabbing it when she shoots you a glare.  
"Well not least because I thought you'd look good with a little purple in your hair-"  
"-and a bit of metal in me, yeah, I know. But seriously, Q?"  
"Where's this coming from? You're giving me a headache," she gripes, massaging her temples. "Hey! I want my cig back!" she yells as she realises her hands are empty, wincing at the excess sound.  
"_I_'m not giving you a headache – that's a hangover. But no, what did you see in me?"  
"Honestly?" she says around a mouthful of smoke. "A kindred spirit, or some such shit. You were just like me. The world fucked you over and you were left to pick up the pieces."  
"But we'll fuck it right back, right?" and you shove her shoulder, allowing yourself a small smile when her face twists into one of its own.  
"I was wandering – if there was someone else – someone _I _felt like that towards …"  
"Who is it?" and you wince as she pounces. "You _know _I'll just get you drunk and get it out of you _that_ way, so you may as well preserve your dignity and just tell me." She smirks at the defeat on your face.  
"No – it's stupid," you mutter, trying to ignore the way one of her perfectly sculpted, pink eyebrows arches dubiously. You sigh.  
"Let's just say, hypothetically, that there was someone who, well, let's just say he isn't exactly _our _sort of person-"  
"And by that you mean _what, _exactly?" Her tone turns dangerous and you hurry to explain.  
"Well, he's a fuck-up, I know it, he's just not … a 'gauge-your-ears-and-smoke-yourself-to-death' kind of fuck-up." She smiles as she passes over the cigarette, and you roll your eyes as you take it, breathing in lung-achingly deep. "But he's hurting. Like I was."  
"_Oh_, so this is about finding you a fuck-buddy, then?" and you try to elbow the lascivious glint from her eyes.  
"God, Quinn, have you _met _me? Sex isn't exactly on my MO."  
"Exactly. That's why there's a colossal stick up your ass. And not the fun kind either-"  
"Ugh, whatever. I just want to _help _him. So, are you on board or not?"  
"Well it depends on _who it is_," and she seems oblivious to your discomfort.  
"Well … you know that guy the footballers slushy – Azimio got him really good the other day …"  
"Oh, well done, that narrows it down to about _half the school_."  
"The new kid. From that posh school," you blurt, watching her face anxiously.  
"The one … with the _bowties_?" and she's utterly incredulous. Your sheepish nod sets her off completely. "He's a _good boy_. He's _completely clean_. He's the sort of person I want to _puke all over _to get the stench of clean _off_! He's probably _never _touched alcohol, let alone a cigarette! He _studies_, for Christ's sake! He's _rich_! He wears _bowties_! He's probably the biggest daddy's boy there ever was!"  
"A bit like me then?" That stops her in her mid-rant. "That's exactly who _I _was before you found me. Well, minus the 'rich'. And look how I turned out." You gesture vaguely towards yourself, inviting her to dispute any aspect of your appearance. She doesn't. "And I was slushied every day too, just like him, and it fucking _sucked_. Something _must _be wrong – why else would he move _here _from such a posh school? Why does he have a massive scar on his back? Why can he box like a pro?"  
"Oh, so you stalk him now? Look – _there's_ something which I haven't managed to change about you – you still blush the same colour as my hair."  
"I _do not_. And I don't stalk him. _Hag_berg sent me to the principal – threatened to call my dad, so I had to go – and I just _happened _to see him working out. And he was _really _good at … boxing."  
"…And, you're blushing again. Wow, what did you get up to in there?"  
"_Nothing_. He was … kind of scared of me, actually," and you allow yourself a smug smile, which Quinn returns. "But then I, uh, told him I wasn't so bad …"  
"_Told _him? Or _showed _him?"  
"Well, we just … it just sort of _happened-_"  
"Oh my god! The Virgin Queen _finally _cracked!" Quinn crows. "So? What was he like?"  
"He, um … well, he like my piercings. A lot."  
"Mmm, I _bet _he did. It's always the quiet ones."  
"But look, Quinn, I want to _help_ him -"  
"In return for sex, is that it? He'll blow you if you hold off the football team? Not bad, Hummel!"  
"_Fine_. Don't help then." You look abruptly up as you feel a drop of water on your hair. "It's raining. I'm going in." You say, not even bothering to hide the coldness in your voice as you turn away.  
"Hey Hummel!" Quinn calls after you. You stop, but you don't turn to face her. "I never said I wouldn't help. After all – he'd look pretty good with some blue in his hair, and maybe a lip-ring or two …" You smirk as you saunter back into the building.

Blaine Anderson's not going to know what hit him.

**Thoughts?  
xx**


End file.
